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Post by Chris on Feb 12, 2020 14:01:19 GMT -5
Feel free to add your character and story posts here
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Post by cousinwill on Feb 17, 2020 20:37:17 GMT -5
Eberon:
Grizzle the gnome; I know I am a very young Gnome but I feel very sick right now. I have never killed anyone before. Back in Mistmarsh in Zilargo there was death frequently in the slum quarter but not by me. That lucky shot from my sling brought down that Goblin to my surprise. Had to do it I guess as he was surly off to do harm to that captive child... Oh well, maybe in time I will get over this.
Now there comes an ancestral Gnome ghost …? Am I having a vision?
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Post by Gizlan the Blue on Mar 2, 2020 17:08:52 GMT -5
Feel free to add your character and story posts here Eberron: Grizzle the Gnome; I long for the wilds again. This tall city is totally hostile. Too much killing and treachery. This motley group I find myself with now is like a headless prairie chicken with absolutely no focus. We NEED to elect a leader, an Alpha a Captain to make decisions for us, right or wrong. I am tired of listening to long bouts of arguing on what to do and then watching the pack scatter to the 4 winds. I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me a leader and not a chaotic death.
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Post by Random Morathas on Apr 30, 2020 10:25:03 GMT -5
Random squatted down in the corner of the wolf room as the group awaited Willow's return from her scouting mission to the surface. Turning his back to shield his actions from prying eyes, he reached into his pack and pulled out an ornate tome. The black book was covered with symbols of writhing tentacles and hundreds of eyes and seemed almost to radiate with eldritch power. Taking a deep breath, he opened the cover and flipped past several pages covered with arcane runes before finding a blank page. From his belt pouch, Random retrieved a quill and ink and began to write.
I did as you asked and journeyed to the Mournland, Random wrote, sighing heavily as he did. The words vanished into the page a few lines after he wrote them, leaving the page as smooth and immaculate as it had begun. And I found the House Cannith facility with the group of adventurers, just as you had described. Why anyone would want to wander into this desolate hellscape is far beyond me--but I suppose you have your reasons, as always.
The group of adventurers seem nice enough, Random continued. There is a jackal shifter who seems oddly cheery, an aarakocran bard whose bagpipes are nearly as hideous as my singing, a smallish druid and his entourage of a burly dragonborn barbarian and a shifty sneak-thief, and a fairly grumpy samurai. Well, why not--it's not as if I'm particularly ordinary, either.
They and their contact Filian tried to explain what they were doing in the place, but I'm afraid I was more horns than ears as I was listening because I couldn't fully grasp it. Apparently they were sent to retrieve some arcane blueprints called "Schema" that, it would appear, could be used by the artificers of House Cannith to develop magical weapons of mass destruction. They assured me that the patrons for whom they worked would keep the Schema from falling into the wrong hands--but for such things, are there really any right hands? And are these blueprints the knowledge you sent me here to gather for your archives? Frankly, I'm not sure I would trust you with such knowledge, either. Or any knowledge really. Bloody blighter.
In any event, I located and joined the group. The facility seemed preserved from The Mourning and was just as it was at the end of the Last War four years ago--well, apart from the corpses, of course, which were all as fresh as the moments they died four years ago as well. Lovely--and what a lovely smell you've left me to discover, too. We wandered further into the facility by using color-coded keys to operate the elaborate mechanical and magical apparatus in various rooms, and found our way in due course to a scorching hot room populated with fire elementals guarding a crystalline chest.
I've come to appreciate that this group prefers to kick doors in rather than knock--all well and good, they seem to be of sturdy stock--and so I tended to stay well back as the rest charged into battle. With a bit of luck, I was able to touch the mind of one of the elementals and suggest to it that it become our ally, which left me with an overly-touchy ball of angry fire as a companion for the day. I suppose if my infernal bloodline is good for one thing, it's keeping appropriate distance from fire beings with personal space issues. The rest of the group took to fighting hand-to-flame and, rather predictably I'm afraid, taking turns catching fire. They are all suitably brave and resilient, however, and with application of brute force and some mild ingenuity, managed to overcome the remaining fire beings and retrieve the Schema.
After reconnoitering the rest of the facility to reasonably assure ourselves that there was nothing more of great value, we returned here to the wolf room to rest while the aarakocra scouted our return to the surface. Hopefully there is nothing preventing us from leaving this accursed land as soon as possible.
I wonder why you sent me here, R'lyeh, Random wrote, and paused. The words disappeared from the page as he lifted the quill feather to his pursed lips. And why you wanted me to join this group of adventurers. What purpose could they possibly serve in your greater plans? You may fancy yourself the Curator of an Archive of knowledge from across the multiverse, but when it comes to revealing any knowledge, I must say you're pretty bloody stingy. And when my foster mother Moratha offered me up into your service all those years ago, I may have accepted it--but I really never expected to be sent hither and yon to such cheery locales with barely a clue as to what I'm doing.
Still, it's better than being strung up as a fiend in some gods-forsaken mud-brick hamlet on the border of the Demon Wastes, I suppose, Random wrote, and grimaced. Speaking of which, that aarakocran bard Willow should be back any moment now, and I'm eager to begin our journey back to civilization.
After all, how much worse could things get?
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Post by Random Morathas on May 7, 2020 12:34:23 GMT -5
Random sat down at the small desk in his room at the inn and pulled out his black tome. Random hadn't given much thought to the name of the inn as he had first passed through Sharn on his way to the Mournlands. His only concerns were that it was relatively quiet, reasonably clean and free of vermin, and offered an exterior room with a window. That small window, just above the desk where Random now sat, provided at least a glint of sunlight filtered down from the upper levels of the city and reflected off of the adjacent towers. In the Boldrei's Hearth district of Sharn, that was about as much as a traveler of comfortable means could afford. Now, however, as Random lifted his quill to record an entry in his tome, he had gained a new appreciation for the inn's name.
The "Vicious Ewe."
Random shook his head silently and began to write.
A vampire lord, Random wrote, the words as ever disappearing into the page shortly he wrote them. R'lyeh, really? You sent me to join a group of adventurers who were being hunted by a vampire lord, with his own private army and necromancer lieutenant. You couldn't think to mention that ahead of time? That's a bit of information that falls into the category of Would Have Been Nice to Know. Bloody git.
Oh, the vampire lord was very pleasant, I'm sure, Random continued. He and his troops were waiting outside the House Cannith facility as we left. They had seized the group's enchanted wagon and the group's escort Filian and threatened to kill him--and us--if we didn't hand over the magical artifact Schema that the group had located inside. I tried to persuade the vampire--he mentioned his name but I immediately forgot it, and so henceforth he will be known as Lord Garry--that I was new to the group and should be allowed to leave, but this fellow was unconcerned with such details. The sneak-thief Vanna thought quickly and hid one copy of the Schema while providing Lord Garry with the other, reasoning correctly that he either didn't know or didn't care about the second copy.
Naturally, the bastard lied. Don't get me started about word-parsing--it's my living. No, when a being vows he'll let you go unharmed, then rides off and instructs his remaining troops to kill you, that constitutes a lie. So Lying Lord Garry rode off with his necromancer and the Schema and left behind a platoon of Emerald Claw soldiers and undead skeleton minions with instructions to kill us. That, at least, is something at which this group of adventurers seems to excel--killing things--and so much hacking and slashing commenced. Huzzah.
The outcome hardly seemed in doubt, and the group made swift work of Lord Garry's crack troops. Overconfident much, milord? In any event, we left one soldier alive for questioning, but either his will was remarkably strong or our questioners, myself included, were remarkably inept, because no combination of mundane or magical interrogation would persuade the fellow to preserve his own skin. The aarakocran bard announced an end to the questioning with the point of his dagger in the soldier's throat, and the samurai decided that a traditional beheading would be cleaner. Not for the first time, I wished that my tiefling heritage had granted me the wizard's ability to clean myself up with a cantrip rather than blowing doors open with magical gusts of wind, but I cleaned up as best I could and climbed aboard the wagon to return to civilization.
The Mournland is a blasted, blighted land with little to redeem itself, and our departure from it only proved the point. Scarcely had we left the House Cannith facility than we happened across a group of ghouls and ghasts playing bridge. It appears that someone overbid, because our group slashed its way into the game with a bid of four no-trump and swept the round. It means we killed them, if you didn't know. Store that in your bloody Archive.
That leads us to the razor sheep and the mimic hut. What can one say? At the desk, Random paused in his narrative and looked out the window, shaking his head once more. A flock of demon sheep with razor wire for wool blocked our path. The group disembarked and ran for shelter at a nearby hut, which turned out to be of the shape-shifting homicidal man-eating variety. Naturally. The bloody thing knocked out several of the group with its pseudopods while performing a classic pincer maneuver with the razor sheep serving as the bulwark. Clearly the Hut had studied its Agrippa. Worse still, its sticky surfaces caused the group's weapons to get stuck in its--hands? Paws? Pods--leading to a deadly tug-of-war, all with the Sheep of Death closing in.
I'm afraid I was of little assistance in such a battle, without having had a chance to rest and renew the powers you had granted me. With a combination of skill and luck, however, the rest of the group combined to finish off The Hut and we left the razor sheep to do ... whatever it is that they do. Only ewe know, Random wrote, and immediately regretted it. He was relieved as the words disappeared into the page.
And so we made our way back to civilization to meet Lady Elyadren, who had apparently sent only a small portion of the group out on the original quest to find the Schema. She was both pleased and horrified to learn that we had recovered two copies, one of which was now in the hands of Evil Lord Garry and his band of merry murderers. She was appropriately generous in her financial rewards, however, particularly once we accompanied her back to Sharn. And now she has more for us to do.
Random lifted his quill, the words vanishing from the page. Below him on the bridges that spanned the Middle City of Sharn, people of the diverse races of Eberron bustled with the morning's business. Somewhere, far beyond the spires of this massive, magically enhanced city, a silent menace was stirring to shatter the hard-won peace in the lands of Khorvaire. Random thought it grossly unfair to those who had lived through the horrors of the recent Last War to have this relative complacency ended so soon thereafter. Then again, Random was a tiefling--he understood from horns to tail how unfair life could be. With a sigh, Random closed the tome and replaced it in his pack. He placed a stopper in the inkwell and returned it and his quill to their places in his belt pouch.
He regarded the small bottles of colored liquid that lined the pouch. Just a few weeks ago, he was in the Eldeen Reaches hawking these bottles as miracle cures to the gullible. He had justified his existence as one of necessity for a tiefling in a hostile world. Now he was swept up in international intrigue, and end-of-the-world questing? It beggared belief. But then, this was a magical world full of beings of profound and unfathomable power--power that dwarfed even beings from beyond time and space like R'lyeh.
Random, you've really stuck your tail in it this time, he thought to himself. With a fatalistic shrug, Random pulled forth a small mirror from his belt pouch and summoned the eldritch powers R'lyeh had granted him. He watched in the mirror as his appearance transformed into that of a nondescript middle-aged human man. No sense in drawing undue attention, he thought.
Shouldering his pack, Random stood. With a gesture and a whispered word, a gust of wind closed the window shutters and extinguished the candle on the desk. Random smoothed his clothes, their appearance transforming into those of a comfortably well-off merchant, and strode out the door to his room to the inn, and city, beyond.
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Post by Random Morathas on May 7, 2020 13:04:51 GMT -5
OOC: Random will be spending the coming weeks--months?--running minor schemes to pay for his comfortable lifestyle. Perhaps Vanna has a preferred scheme on which they could join forces? Random's always been partial to the snake oil salesman con, but that seems rather provincial and works best as a traveling salesman who can make a quick exit from town. If the group is staying in Sharn for an extended period, that's going to require some modifications. Random isn't opposed to honest work as such--it's just that as a tiefling, it's hard to overcome people's innate prejudices. He's open to suggestions.
There's not much study involved in R'lyeh's grant of pact magic; one day, another page of arcana appears in Random's Black Book, and Random can read and understand it. In this instance, an Invisibility spell appears in Random's tome--useful for evading power-mad vampire lords, razor sheep, and other ne'er-do-wells.
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Post by Aileen on May 7, 2020 13:24:56 GMT -5
Vanna likes to play the long con on unsuspecting old rich guys, but can definitely assist Random with whatever!
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Post by Random Morathas on May 10, 2020 13:21:42 GMT -5
OOC: Okay, so Chris is rolling for us on downtime activities, I've been peppering him with questions about all of it, and he's been suuuuuuper patient with me. I've come to the conclusion that Random needs to run The Big Con if he's going to be able to afford his lifestyle expenses for 2 months of downtime and buy the two magic items he acquired (the magic items are really great, though--thanks, Chris!).
So I thought to share here what Random had in mind, mostly because I thought it was entertaining. Chris can decide if he wants to allow others to participate. I named Vanna because I know she shares the Charlatan background with Random, but maybe others feel like running The Sting as well!
Here's what I came up with for Random's Big Con:
So … it’s time for The Big Con. A Tiefling’s gotta do what a Tiefling’s gotta do. [Random will otherwise come out ~20 gp short on his lifestyle expenses over 2 months after purchases.]
I suspect this would be fairly hilarious to roleplay, but I know we're doing it off-stage for simplicity’s sake. Y’know—if Chris permits it, Random would reach out to Vanna to see if Vanna were willing to assist in The Big Con in exchange for splitting the proceeds. (DC 15, up to 100 gp reward on three skill checks--1 success = no reward, 2 successes = 1/2 reward, 3 successes = full reward. Zero successes = JAIL and a fine. Gulp.) Many (sleight of) hands make lighter work (and lighter marks’ purses)—and possibly gain advantage on the skill checks? Would be totally worth it.
So that leaves us with the details for The Big Con. In my mind, I suppose that this is Deception, Intimidation (or possibly Persuasion, but for some reason I don't think Persuasion is a trainable skill for charlatans—makes no sense to me), and Forgery Kit. Random’s proficient (+6 total with CHA and proficiency) in all of those. Here’s how I picture it:
• Random poses as potion-maker who specializes in love potions for the love-lorn. The potion-maker—his Fake Identity from his background—is an elderly human wizard named Henry Everbliss, who wears robes (to hide his disguised tail) and a stereotypical wide-brimmed cone hat (to hide his disguised horns).
• Henry Everbliss carries with him papers purporting to be a formal charter from the Undying Court of Aerenal. They’re forged, of course. The papers instruct the reader that the bearer has been commissioned to extract a penance from a fiend that attempted to place a curse on members of the Undying Court. The fiend had attempted to seduce the young betrothed of the Undying Court into foul trysts. Henry Everbliss has been instructed to travel Khorvaire with the fiend in custody and force it to produce love potions for the needy as its penance. (Inspection of papers = Forgery Kit roll?)
• When faced with a suitably gullible buyer, Random as Henry Everbliss demonstrates the presence of the fiend by “summoning” it. Random-as-Everbliss waves his hands, intones an incantation, and casts thaumaturgy to create a flash of light and burst of smoke. When the smoke clears, the “fiend”—Random, having dropped Disguise Self!—is standing there, snarling and hissing, holding the “love potions.” (Intimidation roll?)
• If Henry Everbliss’s story was believed, then the love-lorn mark should purchase the series of potions with a set of complex instructions on their delivery. The instructions must be followed precisely for the love potions to take effect, of course. (Deception check?) The price for the set of potions is 100 gp--50 gp if something goes awry.
Random invests his starting gold (25 gp) to identify the just-right mark in the ranks of the reasonably well-off who carries the twin airs of unrequited love and credulity. If Vanna is willing to assist, she can carve out a role, perhaps vouching for the reliability of Henry Everbliss’s potions, buttressing the authenticity of the forged papers, or the like.
One way or another, I think it would be entertaining to see the outcome of this one! 😊
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Post by dragonforgotten on May 10, 2020 16:35:14 GMT -5
oooooo. i would be interesting to join in depending what goes down. jackle use to be a harden criminal but shes not very smart and would be curious on the plan. she could help him get in contacts with her criminal connections if it helps your plan.
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Post by Random Morathas on May 10, 2020 19:54:45 GMT -5
Well, okay, Jackle! I didn't want to give away the ending, but Chris rolled earlier today and let me know The Big Con succeeded for a 100 gp reward. So Random is glad to split half of the proceeds, which comes out to 38 gp (75/2 gp after the 25 gp initial investment, rounding up for everyone else's benefit) with any teammates that helped out. Having Jackle's help watching for the authorities and providing a little backup "muscle" could only help. And now Random has enough to pay for his living expenses for the rest of the downtime.
"Jackle, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship...."
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Post by Aileen on May 10, 2020 22:28:06 GMT -5
Well, okay, Jackle! I didn't want to give away the ending, but Chris rolled earlier today and let me know The Big Con succeeded for a 100 gp reward. So Random is glad to split half of the proceeds, which comes out to 38 gp (75/2 gp after the 25 gp initial investment, rounding up for everyone else's benefit) with any teammates that helped out. Having Jackle's help watching for the authorities and providing a little backup "muscle" could only help. And now Random has enough to pay for his living expenses for the rest of the downtime. "Jackle, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship...." sorry, Vanna was having too much fun hanging out with the rich people 😂 and testing out her new goggles
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Post by dragonforgotten on May 10, 2020 22:33:31 GMT -5
alright! Jackle admit it felt nice to do something exciting after her failed attempt at finding a tattoo artist. "Yes it will be."
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Post by Aileen on May 10, 2020 22:36:19 GMT -5
alright! Jackle admit it felt nice to be do something exciting after her failed attempt at finding a tattoo artist. "Yes it will be." We won't mention the Warforged Gentleman's Club we went to, that got weird quick.
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Post by dragonforgotten on May 10, 2020 22:40:55 GMT -5
alright! Jackle admit it felt nice to be do something exciting after her failed attempt at finding a tattoo artist. "Yes it will be." We won't mention the Warforged Gentleman's Club we went to, that got weird quick. yes that was werid. never gain will i look at warforge the same way again. that will follow me into the grave.
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Post by Chris on May 11, 2020 9:09:19 GMT -5
We won't mention the Warforged Gentleman's Club we went to, that got weird quick. yes that was werid. never gain will i look at warforge the same way again. that will follow me into the grave.
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